


The Least Terrible Time Of Year

by YoungMrKusuma



Series: The Naekawa Project [9]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Fluff, I'M GONNA MAKE THIS SHIP SAIL IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO, Original Characters - Freeform, Rarepair, The Originals are Naegi's Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 08:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20079526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungMrKusuma/pseuds/YoungMrKusuma
Summary: A Christmas Fic! (Released about 8 months too late. Fuck me sideways with a chainsaw)





	The Least Terrible Time Of Year

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. Been a while, hasn’t it? :P
> 
> OH GOD, I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. This was supposed to have been out soooo much sooner, but a whole bunch of bullshit happened in real life that I had to deal with. Two of my Uni group projects had me working with useless, lazy assholes who left me to do almost everything by myself. It was probably the most stressful semester I’ve had the misfortune of having to slog through. There was crapload of assignments to handle, presentations to prepare for, and to top it all off, more writer’s block. Fun.
> 
> All that is over and done with, in any case. I’ll be graduating a day from now, but I fully intend to go for a Master’s degree come November, so it’ll be back to school once again. But I’m sure you don’t care about that horsecrap or any of my excuses. On to the story.
> 
> (Link to Tumblr post [here](https://youngmrkusuma.tumblr.com/post/186720703568/the-naekawa-project-part-9-the-least-terrible))

Winter was a quiet, temperate affair that year in Japan. The winds that heralded its arrival were much milder than they had been in the seasons before, going about their way gently this time – as if apologetic for having intruded upon everyone’s lives. Snowfall for most of that period (so far) had come down in light dustings, bringing to mind the image of powdered sugar, dealt from a confectioner’s steady hand. Rather, that was what it looked like to Fukawa, whenever she peered outside her window. As the final week of December drew closer, it hadn’t taken long for the streets to be lined with fairy lights, tinsel and men in red padded suits. In a way she couldn’t quite understand, it seemed a sign of things to come. 

Christmas was – in Fukawa’s experience – usually the least terrible time of year (_Usually_ being the operant word here). Not enough to be considered good, sadly, but you take your blessings where you can get them. One of the main reasons that made it bearable was that her parents were fond of taking vacations overseas during this period. Without bringing her along. Their personal enjoyment of these trips aside, this was meant to be another one of their passive-aggressive jabs at her; _Poor Little Touko_, Mom Number Two would have chimed, _left alone in this big empty house during the holidays, tsk tsk._

But the truth of the matter was that Poor Little Touko couldn’t be happier being alone in that big empty house, because it was infinitely better than spending Christmas with any single solitary one of those fuckers. She didn’t have to lock herself up in her room while they sat downstairs in front of the TV, braying like hyenas at whatever brainless, vapid sitcom they felt like watching. She didn’t have to scurry around like some kind of dormouse in her own home, hoping to avoid contact with them while grabbing a snack or a drink. And she didn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of them rutting like barnyard animals or arguing with each other about their stupid problems.

Instead, she could sit in the living room – on the sofa with her laptop, wrapped in a blanket and with a cup of warm tea – drinking in the peace and quiet. She could have her meals in silence and pace the halls undisturbed, losing herself to the soothing lull of her own thoughts. She could sleep soundly and blissfully, letting her dreams carry her away. 

All of these were comforts she greatly relished when she moved out into her own apartment and away from her wretched parents. But the downside of being able to live like that after so many years of domestic misery was that it put things into perspective. 

Christmas had lost its magic and become a day like any other. And spending it alone – while everyone else was out there having fun with loved ones, exchanging gifts and carving turkeys and whatever else it was that people actually did (she genuinely had no idea) – had become… well, _lonely_. Fukawa learnt that the hard way last year. 

So when the holiday season rolled around this time, she gave her boyfriend a request. 

Naegi, being Naegi, of course said yes. He spoke to his parents about it, and they readily agreed. Both of them really liked her, it seemed, for reasons entirely beyond Fukawa. His sister Komaru, as well. Everyone was eager to have her over for the holidays. 

_For now, anyway_, she thought, drawing her gaze away from the living room window. It was not outside the realm of possibility that she’d wind up becoming an unwanted guest, even with the apparently good impression she had made with his family the last few times she was here. As far as Fukawa was concerned, she still needed to be careful with what she did or said. She wasn’t as worried about Komaru, since they were already friends and had spent all that time together on shopping trips or chatting it up online, but with Naegi’s parents… It was different, somehow. There was still some unspoken divide between them and her, perhaps in the same way that it was between adults and kids. Even at the onset of her twenties (and presumably, adulthood), Fukawa didn’t feel like she could open up and be herself around them just yet. 

Then again, that was what it was like with her and just about everybody, so maybe she was just being silly. 

Other fears came to mind. The presents she bought for his family, for example. Fukawa had virtually no experience with this sort of thing, having never received so much as a single goddamn greeting card all her life on Christmas. So if there were any taboos she was breaking or cultural faux pas she was committing, she wouldn’t know. She had gotten Naegi something she was reasonably confident he’d like – a stylish new hoodie, branded and expensive – but for everyone else, she was reasonably confident that she screwed up somewhere. 

For his father Toshiro, she bought a men’s dive watch. It looked sleek and professional and all, but what if it turned out it was out of style and he didn’t like it? 

For his mother Emiko – who was a fan of her work, she ordered hardcover copies of her three latest novels from her publishers and had them autographed. But she neglected to check if Emiko hadn’t already bought them for herself. 

And for Komaru, she bought a dress. In spite of knowing sweet fuck-all about fashion or even Komaru’s size. Thinking about it now made her want to smack her own forehead. It was probably the stupidest thing she could have done. Knowing Komaru, she’d probably just smile sweetly and thank Fukawa anyway, but the poor girl’s Christmas would be ruined all the same. Damn it, what the hell was going through her mind when she decided on any of this cra- 

_No_, Fukawa told herself firmly, taking a deep calming breath, like Naegi would have told her to do whenever she got like this. _I’m not fucking doing this with you anymore. Shut the fuck up._ Even after all the progress she had made with her anxiety issues, she still had major relapses like these. She was a lot less nervous around the Naegi residence house than she used to be – since none of her other visits here had ended badly – but not enough to eliminate her reservations completely, the way it was whenever she was around Makoto. 

Speaking of her boyfriend… 

He came into the living room holding a pair of steaming mugs and wearing an adorable sweater that matched his eyes. He was beaming brightly as usual. 

“Sorry for the wait,” he said. “We’re out of tea, so Mom had to whip us up a batch of this instead.” He handed her a drink. The warmth of the mug chased away the cold from her fingers. A pleasant aroma wafted from it. 

“Out of _tea_?” She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “H-How does something like that even h-happen?” Her own subdued reaction to it surprised her. Had he told her of this utter _sacrilege_ two years ago, she would have been shrieking to high heaven. Must have been Naegi’s influence. 

“Eheh,” he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It was on our shopping list when we went out to the mall yesterday. But there was so much to buy and carry that we ended up forgetting.” He was interrupted by a peal of laughter from the kitchen; it sounded like Emiko. “Komaru’s at the store right now, so she should be back with some pretty soon.” His smile was apologetic. “I hope this will do in the meantime.” 

Fukawa’s attention returned to the mug and she took a sip. The sweetness of it caught her off guard. She tasted chocolate, and something soft and creamy melted in. Marshmallows, she realized, taking another sip. 

Hm. Not quite as good as tea, but good all the same. Perfect for the weather, and better than memory served. 

“I can’t remember the l-last time I had this,” she said. 

“Really?” 

“Mm-hmm.” She could vaguely recall having hot chocolate as a child, but not how or when. It certainly wasn’t at home; neither Dad nor her two Moms bothered making it for her, and tea was all she drank as soon as she was old enough to boil water by herself. The batch she had back then wasn’t all that great, either. It was cold by the time it got to her, and fairly diluted. (_Must have been that store-bought, powder crap_, Emiko would later tell her. _Disgraceful. _Real_ hot chocolate should be homemade_) 

“What about when you were younger?” 

She shrugged, bringing the cup to her lips once more. She didn’t need to elaborate. Beside her, Naegi’s expression became sad. He hadn’t touched his drink this whole time, keeping it there in his hands as he watched her. It seemed to Fukawa that he had something on his mind. And she was right. 

“Um… Touko-chan?” 

“Y-yeah?” 

“I… uh,” He faltered. It was rare to see him like this. He gave a nervous laugh. “Actually, forget it. Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about it…” 

“N-no, go on.” She moved to sit on the couch, and he joined her. Again, she was surprised by how subdued her own reaction was. There was a time when seeing him like this would have sent her into a panic; perhaps he was going to tell her that they should break up. Or maybe he was going to grill her about some stupid, embarrassing thing she had done. After all this time, however, Fukawa was pretty sure that neither wasn’t going to happen. Not after everything they’d been through. Both of them set their cups on the living room table in front of them. 

“Your parents,” Naegi said, “they don’t treat you very well, do they?” 

The next minute was nothing but pure, deafening silence. Then: “…What m-makes you say that?” 

“Well, for one thing, you’d rather be spending Christmas here than at home with your family,” he said. “You’ve also never brought me to meet them. And Mom’s been hearing… stories about your folks.” 

Ah. This was a recent development. Lately, there’d been rumours circulating both online and offline about how the much celebrated, multi award-winning author Touko Fukawa-sensei had had a _very_ rough homelife. She didn’t know where they came from or how they first started, but they’ve recently been gaining traction. 

“What sort of stories?” She asked. 

“That your dad used to hit you, or that your mom says horrible things about you.” 

Huh. Those stories made it seem way tamer than it really was. 

“Moms, actually,” she said, “D-Did I ever tell you that? I have two of them.” A wry smile formed on her lips. “I honestly d-don’t know who they h-hate more; me or each other.” 

Naegi’s eyes widened. 

“So it’s true, then,” he said. “They really do abuse you.” 

“_Did_ abuse me,” she corrected, matter-of-factly. “It’s in the past now.” 

The one thing rarer than seeing her boyfriend nervous was seeing her boyfriend angry. What she saw in his eyes now was far beyond anything she thought Sweet, Gentle Naegi was capable of. 

“All the same,” he said, quietly. “They still hurt you, didn’t they?” 

His right hand had balled into a fist, bunching the fabric of his jeans. It wasn’t like with her parents whenever they got started on their infantile temper tantrums; screeching like howler monkeys and throwing things everywhere. He was silent, and she could see what lay beneath that silence, bubbling away until it was ready to blow. It was – in complete honesty – frightening to see him this way. 

“We have to do something about this.” He stood up quickly. “Talk to the police, or anyone that can help…” 

“Why?” 

He blinked twice, mouth agape. He could have sworn he misheard her. “…Why? Why?? What do you mean ‘Why?’” He was getting louder. “Doesn’t it bother you that those people haven’t been punished fo-” 

Fukawa had slowly gotten up to her feet as he said all this. She wrapped her arms around his, her fingers caressing him gently. 

“Naegi, it’s o-over now,” she said, soothingly. “I cut all ties with them the day I m-moved out. They don’t matter anymore. Just forget about them.” 

_Just forget about them_. Two years ago, Fukawa would never have believed that she’d ever be able to sincerely say that about her parents. Not when pure spite was the only thing she had left to cling to. Now though… It was a change she was proud of. 

But Naegi couldn’t just forget about them. Not with what he now knew. All this while, when he and Fukawa were in school, or hanging out with each other or going on dates, she was living with those… those savages. What had they done to her? How accurate were those stories Mom had heard? Did they beat her? Starve her? One of those rumours mentioned her being locked in a room for three days. Or maybe it was a closet. If even half of what people were saying was true… 

_You failed her_, a voice inside him said. And he felt something white hot burn from within him. 

She had been in trouble. Just like when she had been in trouble with Syo, except this time he couldn’t help because he was too freaking dumb even know what was happening, right under his nose. Child abuse tended to leave signs on the victim, both emotional and physical. He should have seen or at the very least suspected something whenever he was with her. Bruises, maybe. Or cane marks. Or cigarette burns on her arm. Something. Hell, the fact that she was – to put it mildly – such a neurotic mess when he first met her should have raised a red flag. 

Yet he didn’t know. All this while she was suffering in that house with those _people_, and he didn’t. Fucking. Know. 

_Stupid_, he cursed himself. _You’re so goddamn stupid._

“How am I supposed to do that?” He turned to look at her, sadly now. “Just pretend like nothing happened and I didn’t notice anything?” He held her by the shoulders. “They _hurt_ you,” he repeated, anger returning. “They’ve been hurting you this whole time and I didn’t even…” He gritted his teeth. “We can’t just let them get away with that.” 

A contented sigh escaped her as she smiled. If there was ever a sign that he did truly care about her, this was it. 

“They’re not getting a-away with it,” she said. “When I said I cut a-all ties with them, I d-don’t just mean cutting off contact. They’re not getting another cent from me.” 

Naegi blinked again. “Huh?” 

“My royalties,” she explained. “They used to m-make me split a portion of it with them for ‘rent and board’ or ‘weekly expenses’. Not anymore.” Her smile became sardonic. “H-Here’s something I’ll bet you’d never have guessed about my Dad; he’s a p-player. Can you believe that?” 

He looked about ready to say something when she said “Actually, you k-know what? D-don’t answer.” 

“Anyway, the dumb bastard always liked t-to go clubbing, you see. So he could p-pick up chicks and guzzle booze. And he spent a fortune on both. He always had to h-have the most expensive liquor, and he bought fancy clothes and w-watches, all so he could i-impress air-headed girls. Didn’t stop e-even after he got hitched. 

“His spending got worse o-once I started publishing. N-New house, new cars, new f-furniture… My Moms weren’t m-making things any easier either, the fucking gold diggers.” Fukawa shook her head. “F-funny how they can’t stand each other when they’re both e-exactly the same. They w-wanted dresses and jewellery and weekly t-trips to five-star restaurants. All paid for b-by yours truly. 

“But not anymore. You should have s-seen the look on their faces when I told them I was moving out; I kept it a surprise. The c-cash cow’s gone, and knowing them, t-they probably didn’t bother saving.” 

Fukawa knew for a fact that their monetary habits did not change or even slow down a little once she left them behind. They had never been able to help themselves up on social media, constantly bragging to their friends about their lavish lifestyle. A look through their feed told her that they had been every bit as extravagant in their spending for the first few months. 

And then everything fell apart. No more pictures of lobster and beluga caviar. No more pictures of chiffon dresses and Gucci handbags. In their place were vague ramblings about how life gotten harder, about bills and mortgages. 

Soon, there were offers to sell used designer goods at discount prices. Offers to sell their car. And finally, radio silence. 

“P-Probably in dire straits now,” she said. Mockingly: “Poor them.” 

Much of Naegi’s anger was replaced with uncertainty. “…That might not necessarily be true, though. I mean, maybe they just started spending less. They could still be living comfortably off of your money.” 

“Fair point,” she shrugged. Truth of the matter was, she couldn’t care less either way. At least, not anymore. It felt like it happened in another lifetime, to a different Touko Fukawa. Her past felt so inconsequential. 

“Look, l-let’s not talk about them a-anymore, okay?” She said, softly. “It’s Christmas. People are supposed to be h-happy on Christmas.” 

Her boyfriend remained tense for a few moments, then relaxed. “Alright. If that’s what you want.” 

“It is.” 

They sat back down together. As they did, Fukawa planted a kiss on his cheek. A small noise of surprise escaped him as she pulled him into a hug. 

“T-Thank you.” 

He was blushing. “What for?” 

“For caring.” She squeezed him tighter. It was true that she didn’t want him worrying about her or getting up in arms about her shitty parents, but the fact that he did made her so, so grateful. “No one ever h-has before.” 

Naegi returned the embrace. “Of course I care,” he said. “How could I not? I love you.” 

She smiled at that. Love. It was a word she would have been so hesitant to use a year ago, even when she was at her happiest with him. Youngsters always think they know what love is, until the magic of it all wears off and they start drifting apart or eyeing someone else. She had seen it happen a thousand times before. And she had been terrified of getting so caught up in that magic that she’d end up becoming clingy and driving him away. After being with him for so long, however, she was sure of her own feelings, sure of what it was exactly that she shared with him. 

“I love you too,” she said, without fear or reservation. 

And the moment slowed as they leaned into each other, two halves longing to be made whole. Her heart was going a mile a minute, and she could feel the warmth of Naegi’s breath as they- 

_Click._

Both of them blinked at the same time. 

_Click._

Turned to the source of the noise: the living room entrance. 

_Click._

Emiko Naegi-san was standing there, holdng back giggles. She had her smartphone out, the camera in facing their direction. Komaru was there too, grinning from ear to ear. She stuck her thumbs up at them cheerily._ Click._

Naegi’s cheeks turned beet-red again in record time. “M-Mom!? What are you-” _Click._

“Oh no, don’t stop on our account,” Emiko said. Her smartphone clicked another three times in a row. “Please, by all means, continue.” 

“Mom!” _Click._

Beside him, Fukawa had turned into a stammering wreck. There wasn’t much else she had the presence of mind to do, except for bury her face in her hands. All that went through her mind for the next minute or so was _Oh god oh god they saw us and there’s pictures oh god oh god oh god_

A new voice rang out from behind Emiko and Komaru. Makoto’s father Toshiro, no doubt. “What is going on out there??” 

“Young love!” Emiko cried out. “Our little boy is all grown up!” And Komaru squealed with laughter while her father emerged from the kitchen. Makoto looked on mortified as his mother showed Toshiro the pictures. “There, see? It’s like I was saying earlier; future daughter-in-law.” 

“Wha-!?” Both Naegi and Fukawa blurted at the same time. 

“They’ll be walking down the aisle before you know it!” 

His father shook his head, though a smile crept across his face. “You keep acting like this and you’re going to scare her away for good, Emi.” He gave the pair a sympathetic look (as if to say to Fukawa: _Please pardon my wife’s insanity_), then turned back to Emiko. “Maybe we ought to give them some privacy?” 

“And miss out on all this? Fat chance.” 

“I’m not budging one inch,” Komaru said. 

This went on for quite a bit before everyone decided that their time was better spent in the dining room instead, where a nice hot meal was waiting (half of which was comprised of traditional dishes and the other half comprising of KFC*). Neither Makoto’s mother nor sister had any intention of letting them live down what happened, unfortunately. The jokes and snarky comments continued well into the night – including one about a sprig of mistletoe that Fukawa didn’t understand but had her boyfriend in shambles. 

And that was how, in spite of all her efforts, the worst happened after all. She embarrassed herself in front of Naegi’s family. 

Yet somehow, she was completely okay with that. Somehow, this was still the best Christmas she ever had. 

And she didn’t just mean _the-best-in-comparison-to_ all the other semi-decent Christmases she had, oh no. Fukawa knew – even with the heat in her cheeks and the laughter at her expense – that this was going to be a night that she would look back upon very fondly for a long time to come. She was going to think back to Komaru giggling herself into a belly ache and Emiko playfully threatening to plaster those photos all over Facebook, and she was going to smile. She was going to think back to what happened in the living room and hearing the click of the camera and the softness of Naegi’s lips pressing against hers, and she was going to be glad it happened. 

_Glad_ to have been embarrassed. She must have finally gone mad. 

More so than usual, that is. Either way, her mind was in a good place right now. Fukawa was enjoying a good meal in the company of good people. She couldn’t ask for anything better. 

Definitely doing this again next year.

**Author's Note:**

> As some of you have no doubt noticed, my portrayal of the Fukawa family is a bit different to what was [hinted at](https://youngmrkusuma.tumblr.com/post/186254107473/chr0mematic-looking-through-genocider-mode-and) in the _DR AE - Genocider Mode_ manga released in January 2019 (Touko’s parents were… hoarders, it seemed like? It would explain her supposed bad hygiene). That’s because I was already done with the first half of this story and I wasn’t about to start changing it, especially since we’ve already diverged so much from canon anyway.
> 
> *Believe it or not, it is in fact a very popular Christmas tradition in Japan to celebrate with KFC, apparently thanks to some marketing campaign back in the 1970s. They’ve got the right idea, as far as I’m concerned; KFC is fucking delicious.


End file.
